Zenith
by Felidae1
Summary: After being ridiculed and injustly accused of being a burden to the people one time too many, Darkwing decides to hang up his cape. How will St. Canard survive without its guardian? And will Gosalyn and Launchpad take this lying down?
1. Chapter 1

Hya, everybody, and welcome to Felidae's very first Darkwing Duck story!

Truth be told, I have so many other started stories, I should finish these ones fi-eh? Sorry, my muse just tried to strangle me. I really should stop bothering her, when my schedule is as packed as it is. *cough* As I was saying, I have been out of writing for quite some time, so please be lenient with me; I'm a tad bit rusty.

This is the first instalment of my personal DW challenge; twenty-six stories centred around our favourite caped crime-fighter. There'll be one-shots, action-packed novels, cooky comedies, weird romance and the usual brouhaha that comes with St Canard's protector and family.

So there, without much further ado, read, enjoy and review.

Disclaimer: Darkwing Duck and all related characters belong to Disney. This is done for pure entertainment and without no profit what so ever.

Warnings: PG-13, though I'm not aware of any grave violence or swear words.

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**_Zenith_**

**l**

Smoothly, the shadow glided past the carrier beams, ducked to avoid being silhouetted against the large, battered and dirtied bay windows and crept closer to the lone figure standing in the centre of the empty fabrication hall. Nervously, the person below turned their head to all sides; although they could feel that something was wrong, it was obvious that they were unaware of their observer.  
Still glancing around for any possible intruders, Megavolt pulled the remote control for the newest version of the Delurian 3000TM out of his vest pocket and hit the 'On' button.  
Nothing happened.  
Again, Megavolt pressed the highlighted knob, but the expected whirr of the1.4 Megawatt powered engine didn't arise. Furious, the electrically enhanced maniac repeatedly hammered the button, but to no avail.

"Nice try, Megavolt, but as you no doubt have already realized, your attempts at stealing the Delurian 3000TM are bound to failure. Especially since I took the precaution of removing the ignition wire!"  
Panicked, Megavolt swerved around, searching the bizarre mosaic of darkness and dim light for the source of the voice.  
"Wha-who said that? Where are you? Show yourself, you coward!"  
A dark, vaguely familiar chuckle made the hairs on the villain's neck stand on end, and then the voice boomed:  
"I am the terror that flaps in the night!"  
Megavolt rolled his eyes and palmed his face.  
"Oh golly! Not him again..!"  
"I am the lose horseshoe that makes your 80:1 runaway favourite trip on the finish line!"  
Megavolt trembled with anger. "Ooouhh, that's what cost me my life savings -and my favourite lime-green suit!" he seethed, as he replaced the remote control with his laser pistol and checked if he was fully charged.  
A smoke bomb went off only a few feet to his left. Megavolt aimed into the blue vapour, even as the voice concluded: "I am DARKWING DUCK!"  
"And in a second you'll be Deadwing Duck, duck!" screeched Megavolt, shooting a bolt of concentrated electricity into the dissolving screen. Which, to his utter surprise, revealed -nothing.

"Looking for me, Megavolt?" came Darkwing's voice from over the miscreant's shoulder. Who squeaked in surprise, twisted around -and met face-first with a waiting fist, the blow making him lose his laser pistol. Stumbling backwards, the felon held his hurting nose with one gloved hand, trying to will away the stars before his eyes. "Well, what have we got here, Sparky? Playing with toy cars again?" teased the masked mallard, as he stepped closer.  
"DON'T CALL ME SPARKY! I hate it when you call me that!"  
A flicker appeared at the tip of Megavolt's index finger. Pointing at Darkwing, he bellowed:  
"Let's see how well you can dance, duck!"  
With a squawk, Darkwing backflipped and escaped the electrical assault. Again and again, he somersaulted, hopped and evaded being electrocuted, much to Megavolt's chagrin.

"Would you hold still so I can turn you into a crispy stain on the floor?" he foamed. Ducking and rolling out of harm's way, Darkwing taunted,  
"Not likely, you egregious, emaciated, electrically enhanced evil-doer! I'll have you wrapped up and ready for transport before the cops even realize that you've triggered the silent alarm."  
Puzzled, Megavolt stopped his shooting to scratch his head in confusion.  
"Silent alarm? But that's impossible. I rerouted the entire alarm system into a self-repetitive cycle and -hey!"

Like a purple bolt Darkwing launched himself at his nemesis, bringing them both down. Rolling across the floor, they traded blows and insults, before Megavolt managed to shake off the vigilante with a well-placed spark. Darkwing yelped and shot five feet high in the air, holding his singed tail feathers, even as Megavolt scrambled for his laser pistol. Growling, Darkwing reached for his trusted gas gun and snarled,  
"Oh no, you don't!"  
"Wanna bet?" cackled Megavolt, weapon in hand. He took aim, Darkwing pulled the trigger...

Both guns went off at the same time. The electric bolt hit the gas canister dead on, sending it spiralling into a bucket of oily rugs, a maintenance worker had forgotten, where it exploded. Immediately, the soaked cloth caught fire. Both Megavolt and Darkwing gaped at the miniscule flames, then the rat took advantage of the caped crime-fighter's distraction and struck him down with a haphazard shot.

Cackling, Megavolt made for the exit.  
"Bye-bye- Dimwit! I'd love to stay, but as they say: the rat who runs away, gets to rob another day! Ahahahahaaa!"  
"Not..likely.." rasped Darkwing, loaded his gun with the grapple hook and aimed for the water faucet across the fabric hall. Megavolt barely had time to register the whirr of the projectile breezing past him when the hook had already found and twisted open the handle.  
"Uh-oh!" was all Megavolt managed to say, just before a blast of water hit him dead-on, short-circuiting him.

Grunting, Darkwing marched over to where the scorched villain lay in a puddle of water and forced the faucet closed. Naturally, that was the very exact moment the smoke detector finally decided to take notice of the still smouldering oil rags and set off the sprinklers.  
Darkwing wasted one moment to gaze at the drizzle soaking his hat, then scowled.  
"Terrific. And I just had this suit pressed."  
In a decidedly darker mood Darkwing bound the semi-conscious Megavolt with his rope and pushed him out the hall via fire exit.  
"Come on; I'm sure the police commissioner would like to have a word with you about breaking into a scientific research facility and trying to steal yet another priceless electric car. And before it's even built, too."  
"What?" sputtered Megavolt incredulous, struggling against his binds,  
"But-but the news said-!" Darkwing shook his head.

"No, the news only reported that all the individual pieces had been finished and brought here. They're going to assemble the parts tomorrow in a special life feed."  
Megavolt stared at Darkwing's smug grin, then bawled,  
"All the hard work for nothing! I spent hours figuring out how to override the alarm system, and for what? A pile of worthless junk and wires! That's so unfair!"  
He paused, then turned to glare at the vigilante.  
"But you-!"  
Darkwing rose one hand in defence.  
"I had nothing to do with the scheduling of the report or the assemblage. But I knew you couldn't resist the new Delurian; seeing as how the old one had already drawn you like the flame does a moth."  
"Yeah, and thanks to a certain _crime-fighter,_ the poor Delurian ended in a Matchbox case!" snapped Megavolt. Darkwing cleared his throat embarrassedly, as he steered his captive towards the main gate. Already, they sirens could be heard in the distance. Darkwing shouldered the slender nemesis and with little difficulty scaled the iron bars.

Unbeknownst to him, however, Megavolt had learned from his previous mistakes. Hidden within a secret, waterproof sealed compartment inside his left glove lay a single battery. Given, it had nowhere enough power to help him recharge, but it still held enough wattage to generate a spark.  
And that spark was all he needed.

While Darkwing hefted the both of them over the gate's crown and landed safely on the other side, Megavolt was busy scorching the ties around his wrists.  
"See? That wasn't so bad, now was i-"  
The lights hit them even before the sound of screeching tires met their ears. Flinching away from the spotlights, Darkwing rose his hands to shade his eyes in order to make out the-  
"News wagon! Oh great! Where's the police when you need them?"  
Megavolt, whose eyes were used to sudden flashes of brightness and adjusted almost instantly, seized the opportunity. Pouring all his remaining energy into one finger, he managed a flare strong enough to burn through the rope.

At that exact moment the doors of the news van slid open and out jumped Roger Lockjaw, his trusty cameraman hot on his heels.  
"We're life at the St. Canard Research Facility, where a few moments ago the police reported that both the silent as well as the fire alarm had been triggered. And, unsurprising, we find the self-proclaimed hero and public menace Darkfling Duck holding captive a poor innocent citizen-"  
"That's DarkWING Duck!" barked the vigilante, still holding on to Megavolt's arm.  
"And who are you calling a menace? I just stopped Megavolt from stealing- hey, hey! Where do you think you're going?" bellowed Darkwing, when he felt the rat twist out of his grip.  
He reached out to grab the villain's scruff -and drew his hand back with a surprised yowl, when Megavolt scorched his limb. With a taunting snigger, Megavolt turned tails and ran off, shouting,  
"So long, duck! Been nice heating ya!"  
Growling, Darkwing took off after him -and almost got his neck broken, when his cape was pulled back by Roger Lockjaw.

"Not so fast, Dartwing; did you just let a known felon escape from underneath your nose?"  
"What?" Indignantly, Darkwing bodily removed his cape from the reporter's grasp; his patience steadily wearing thinner.  
"I didn't let him escape! And to proof it, I'll capture him right away!"  
Two steps was as far as he got, before Lockjaw planted his foot on the vigilante's cape, causing this one to turn an interesting shade of blue, and declared to the camera,  
"Once again, this so-called hero let a dangerous criminal escape. Said criminal, who probably almost set fire to the very hall in which the new Delurian3000TM will be presented in a few hours. Again, I cannot help but wonder, what kind of hero let's a fiend like Megavolt escape so easily?"

By now, Darkwing was seething with anger, when he snarled,  
"He got away because of you! You pompous-" Lockjaw positioned himself between the duck and the camera,  
"And as always, he has an excuse ready for his failure. I ask you, dear viewers, how can the mayor allow such a dubious-"  
"Now hold it right there, pal!" roared Darkwing beyond furious. Grabbing hold of Lockjaw's lapels, he used the reporter's chest as toadstool, pressed his forehead against this one's and shouted,  
"I have been risking my life for this town since before you were a simple PA on Channel Three's payroll! I go out there every other night to bring some piece and justice to this town and all I get is being ridiculed and chastised for it?! What is wrong with you people?"

Still fuming, he hopped down to earth level. Stunned, Roger Lockjaw regarded the vigilante.  
Darkwing took a couple of calming breaths...and his whole body slumped. When his eyes opened, there was a look of such deep remorse in them, the cameraman couldn't help but stifle a gasp.  
Addressing the viewers directly, the hero rasped:  
"It's true, I have bumbled a couple of times in the past. Still, I try as best as I can, as I'm sure, each and everyone of you people of St. Canard do. Underneath this mask and cape, I'm just an average person. A normal civilian, trying to make the town a little bit safer, not only for himself, but also our children. If that doesn't count for anything..,"  
he shook his head sadly, swallowing hard,  
"then, I'm afraid, the city has no more use for this here hero."

Thus spoken, he turned and walked away, disappearing in a cloud of blue smoke.

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_End of story*ducks various flying objects* -just kidding, just kidding, sheesh, can't you folks take a joke? There'll be more to it, no worries._  
_Next up: how will react to the news? And what will the criminal element think about Darkwing's retirement?_  
_Will Gosalyn and Launchpad accept the hero's decision or fight both tooth and nails to get him back on the rooftops?_  
_And what about the Fearsome Five? Morgana? The police? S. .H.? F.O.W.L.? The Netherlands? ..err, okay, I'm getting_  
_carried away, here._

_Stay tuned -or not- and check back every now and then. I might have a new chapter up..or not._

_P.S: I'd like to know who is in charge of the formatting on this site -so I can hurt them.(ref. to DW#69: Fungus Amongus)_


	2. Chapter 2

Second chapter, and sheesh! -what that a pain to write! I got so wound up in DW's speech patterns, I almost started making alliterations during narrations. So, my most sincere apologies if this chapter does sound a little like Darkwing; I hope to get the mighty _mouthed_ mallard under control once the story really starts flowing and the other characters make their entrance.

I would also like to use this opportunity to thank my first three reviewers BeecroftA, acosta perez jose ramiro and Aurora West for their support. You can't imagine how much your kind words encouraged me to continue with this story. Having been out of writing for a couple of years, it's always nice to see one still got what it takes to capture people's interest. So this here chappie is dedicated to you three ones.

Thank you for the pat on the back.

This chapter is filled with some cooky comedy everyday house life Mallard-style..I really just wanted to get the funny out of my system, hehehee...

Btw, 1),2), 3) ect. are episode references. See author's note at the bottom.

Disclaimer: Darkwing Duck and all related characters belong to Disney. This is done for pure entertainment and without no profit what so ever.

Warnings: PG-13, though I'm not aware of any grave violence or swear words.

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Zenith

** ll**

"I can't believe you just walked out on crime-fighting like that!" fumed a ten years old Gosalyn Mallard.  
The duckling was pacing the living room where her dad was sitting considerably relaxed on his couch, surfing through the channels. Suppressing a yawn, Drake Mallard replied,  
"Gosalyn, honey, I don't know what you're so upset about. I never said I stopped fighting crime."  
Whirling around, the red-haired girl bellowed,  
"Then what was that statement you made on life television about, huh? I can't believe you let some paparazzo with a bad hairdo trash-talk you into retirement. Whatever happened to the terror that flaps in the night? And what about-"  
"Gosalyn, Gosalyn, Gosalyn, really, there is no need to be so wound up about it. I only said that I would no longer be a hero. I'll still be fighting crime, just not so..actively."  
The deep scowl and angry silence that met his declaration made him pause. Clearing his throat, Drake walked over to her and continued,  
"As you might have noticed, my crime-fighting equipment is still complete and fully functional. Same goes for the Ratcatcher and the Thunderquack. I will be using my detective skills and knowledge to assist the police from..behind the scenes. Consider me something akin to a- counsellor."  
Gosalyn merely tapped her foot in annoyance.  
"And what about S.H.U.S.H?" Drake blinked in puzzlement.  
"What about them?" Gosalyn looked ready to explode, when she yelled,  
"In case you've forgotten it, you're still working for S.H.U.S.H., too! Are you gonna 'counsel' them into dealing with the likes of Steelbeak and Ammonia Pine, or what?And what about the Fearsome Five? What if Negaduck comes back, huh? Are you gonna explain a bunch of doughnut munchers how to handle Megavolt or the Liquidator? Not to mention Quackerjack! Just imagine what happens when these crooks decide to team up again, and -mmphh!"  
Elegant fingers clasping around the girl's small beak, Drake regarded his daughter through half lidded eyes.  
"That will be quite enough, young lady. Now, if you will be kind enough to let me finish, I'd be much appreciated."  
Gosalyn merely glared at him. Drake returned a toothy grin.

"Thank you. Now, as I already stated, I will no longer be a hero. Not for St. Canard, at any rate. As for my contract with S.H.U.S.H., well, that one's still valid until further notice. In other words, if F.O.W.L. should decide -and I'm certain they will- to unleash one of their agents, I'll be sure to be there to send them straight back to jail. In other words, your allowance is save. Unless you keep bothering me about my decision", he concluded in a chipper alto. 1)  
Gosalyn's expression grew even darker, as she crossed her arms before her chest.  
Her beak opened the very same moment the front door did and in burst Launchpad.  
"Geez, DW, you have no idea what's going on out there! It seems every crook in St. Canard is on the lose and throwing a party!"  
"Yep, yep, yep, that was to be expected, regarding the news of my...premature resignation", Drake couldn't help but puffing his chest out.  
"Resignation?" yelped Launchpad,  
"They way they act, you'd think they think you bought the farm! You can't take a single step without stumbling over some crime or another!"  
He watched as the mallard's resolve began to crack and crumble, the vigilante's entire body twitching with nervous spasms. 2)  
Calling upon every single ounce of his willpower, Drake managed the Herculean task of resisting the overwhelming urge to rush out the door and put an end to any crime he might have come across.  
Sweat beads appeared on his forehead, his teeth gnashing and fists balled so tight, it turned his knuckles a whiter shade of pale, Drake snarled, growled, sucked in a hissing breath -and declared impassively,  
"I'm certain the police can handle it."  
Gosalyn's and Launchpad's jaws unison hit the floor.

Following her father back to the couch, Gosalyn asked worriedly,  
"Are you sure you're ok, dad? I mean, that doesn't really..sound like you. Which usually _is_ an improvement", she added under her breath.  
"Of course I'm fine," declared Drake, as he plopped back down on the cushions and took hold of a list and pencil laying on the coffee table.  
"Now, let's see, laundry: check, kitchen board replacement: is on its way, clean out the attic: check and -ahHAH! here we go: overhaul the entire security system of the HQ along with the Thunderquack, Ratcatcher and Hooverquack. Oh, and also clear out the garage, but that 's not really in a hurry", he stated, making his way over to the kitchen.  
Launchpad, more confused than usual, interjected,  
"Uh, but, didn't we just overhaul the Thunderquack the other day? I think I recall replacing that loose oil vent and the rear upholstery."  
Opening the cupboard and taking down bowls and flakes for breakfast, his friend replied,  
"No, I meant overhaul as in upgrade. You know, building in and testing out all those little gadgets we had designed but never gotten around to add?"  
The pilot's face lit up.  
"Oh, you mean like the webbed titanium undercoat and the grenade launcher?" 3)  
Drake nodded as he opened the fridge to retrieve milk and orange juice and set them on the table, then opened the juice pack.  
"Exactly. Oh, and we should consider installing another set of parachutes for the back seat, just in case", he added.  
Gosalyn's face had turned slightly greenish during their conversation. Stepping closer to Launchpad, she gulped,  
"Grenade..launcher?"  
For a second, she had a terrible premonition -a memory, actually - of the future.  
Her father, mad beyond madness, ruling over a St. Canard so frightened and sterile, it defied life. 4)

"What -kind of grenades?" hushed the upset duckling. Launchpad, unaware of Gosalyn's discomfort, explained,  
"Oh, you know, the usual gas grenades DW uses for his gun. But better, because the canisters will all be colour labelled and the launch system automatically picks out the fitting gas for the according situation." 5)  
"Precisely," grunted Drake, who was busy fumbling with the latch of the milk bottle.  
"I mean, it's not as if we would be shooting real grenades, right? After all -hnn!-that's more -unn! -Negaduck's resort -why won't this stupid bottle open up, already? You'd think, if they can send people to the moon, they would manage to design a latch which doesn't require a rocket scientist to figure out how to open!" he fumed, rummaging through the drawers and coming up with a pair of pliers.  
Launchpad held up a suggesting finger, even as Gosalyn breathed a sigh of utter relief.  
"Uh, DW, why don't you just-"  
"Later, Launchpad, I'm going to open this milk bottle, even if it kills me!" Drake towered forbidding over the innocent canister, blue eyes flashing with determination.  
Gosalyn, glad that her father was not planning on using life ammunition any time soon, scoffed,  
"If I got a buck for every time I heard that one, I'd be owning Quackefeller Centre."  
Launchpad shot her a puzzled glance, before turning his attention back to Drake.  
"Sheesh, DW; I only wanted to tell you that-"  
"Not now, Launchpad, can't you see I'm busy?"  
By now, the shorter mallard had his webbed feet firmly wrapped around the bottle and pulled with all his might at the latch. His face reddened by the moment, even as his family watched his futile attempts with growing concern.  
Launchpad tried one more approach.  
"DW, I really think you should.." Sweating with extortion, the aforementioned one ground out,  
"I..don't..care -what you -think, Launchpad, I-whhooaaAAHH!"  
Drake literally lost his foothold, fell backwards off the kitchen table, took the opened pack of juice with him, hit his head on the cupboard doors and slumped semi-conscious to the floor, orange juice spilling over his head.  
Both Gosalyn and Launchpad flinched and winced at the display, before sighing in weary acceptance.  
"I'll get the broom", mumbled Gosalyn, leaving he kitchen. Bending over the crumpled form of his friend, Launchpad babbled,  
"Uhm, geez, DW, I just wanted to tell you that they changed the seals on the milk bottles. You have to twist them to the left first, then unscrew the lid. Ehh, guess I'll give you a repeat on that one, once you come around."

Down town St. Canard, things were nowhere as easy-going as on Avian Drive 537.

The very minute news of Darkwing Duck's retirement had hit the streets, the criminal element of the metropolis had shot out of their hiding holes like pollen from a shattered greenhouse. Of course, the more weathered denizens remained their calm; after all, it could have just as easily been a ruse.  
As some of the less careful villains, who had gone in hiding after Darkwing had been sicced on them, came to discover.  
Even though the crime-fighter was no longer around, St. Canard's finest still were.  
Many a crook who had thought it safe to show his face with Darkwing Duck gone, found out the hard way that his features were still prominent on the police's mug shot collection display.  
Though most of the petty criminals could be incarcerated before noon and even some older crimes solved due to the fact that the perpetrators became careless, the police had all hands full from keeping St. Canard tumbling into utter chaos.  
Before sundown, the first three national banks, eight jewellers, five electronic stores and an antique's shop had been robbed clean(and a Hamburger Hippo, but that one had really just been in the way).

Down in the harbour district, a trawler, two yachts and a wharf were burning Several warehouses had been forced open; crates and entire stillages being moved around the place into waiting trucks and vans of all sizes.

Two blocks over and halfway across town, the local oil deposit found itself centre of a turf war, as the police, an army division and three rivalling gangs fought for control. So far, the governmental forces were winning, but it was a shaky victory.

And then there was the Swany Heights.  
Basically every private security agency, gumshoe and retired cop had been summoned to the poshest part of town; security systems were being up-graded almost by the hour and the neighbourhood watch was running double shifts.

Cat fights erupted between the various cat burglars, safe breaker cracked their knuckles in expectation and every upper crust representative with at least one single war veteran in their ancestral line polished and primed their weaponry collection to mint condition.  
Both sides weighed their opponent's strengths, weaknesses, waited for the right opportunity.  
Every here and there a thief got too feisty and had to beat a hasty retreat courtesy of a well-placed warning shot. Once in a while a police squad had to 'rescue' a family from their trigger happy _protector _and escort the gun-crazed golden goose to the relative safety of a squad car.

As night descended upon St-Canard., things settled a little; the criminals, who had been on a rally all day decided to get some sleep in order to start an new wave of attacks in the mornings.  
And the good citizens took the chance to batten down the hatches and stock up on whatever food they could get hold of.

Because come morning, the tables would have been turned and the day would no longer belong to the fair and honest people of St. Canard.

_DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW _

Much better. I'm no longer used to write comedy, but since I decided to do this story episode style, I have to throw in some sniggers every here and now. Don't worry, though, things are going to become a whole lot more serious soon enough.  
And now, for something entirely different*drumwhirl*

1) I can't help it, but DW's respectively Drake's sweet twitter right before he yells at the offending party is just too  
cute^^ This one here is a reference to "Time and Punishment"

2) Various episodes mention DW's obsession with crime-fighting. Try "Fraudcast News", "Days of Blunder" "My  
Valentine Ghoul" ect.

3) I love the Thunderquack. Don't you love the Thunderquack? It's so stylish. Ohh, the things I could dream up for  
this baby..*sighs*

4) If I have to explain this, please go back and watch the series. Please. "Time and Punishment"

5) The quotes which stick out are "Laughing gas? You shoot a madman with LAUGHING GAS?!("That sinking feeling")  
and "I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am -obviously out of my trade-marked blue smoke"(sorry, I can't  
recall which episode that was)

So much for that matter. I hope you like the story so far. If you have any ideas, suggestions or constructive criticism, go ahead and post away. However, if you're trying to scorch me with flames I'll be sure to use them to burn down your house * sniggers evilly*

_P.S: Good formatting is so hard to write these days! (ref. to DW # Paint Misbehavin')_


	3. Chapter 3

Back again, this time with a truckload of narratives and less spoken dialogue. This chapter is essentially all about laying out the setting, so don't expect any huge action scenes. Again, as in the series I'll also throw in references to movies, books, music and what not more. So far, I'm surprised nobody pointed out the '_Back to the Future'_ nod in chapter one. Let's see if you can catch the ones in this chapter.

Also, I'd like to thank acosta perez jose ramiro for pointing me into the right direction: the quote "I am -obviously out of my trade-marked blue smoke" is taken from episode #32 _'Toys czar us'._

Disclaimer: Darkwing Duck and all related characters belong to Disney. This is done for pure entertainment and without no profit what so ever.

Warnings: PG-13, though I'm not aware of any grave violence or swear words.

_DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW DWDWDW_

Zenith

lll

Morning arose with the sweet sound of birds singing in the park their joyful songs heralding a beautiful new day in St. Canard.  
However, not everybody found this day to be particularly enjoyable, leave alone refreshing.  
In the very centre of the metropolis, right next to the City Hall and the Library, in a small hidden wing of the adjunct court house fit snugly between the fire brigade station and the police headquarters, St. Canard's highest official was literally fuming.  
Throwing the door to his unofficial, extremely safe and private office open, mayor Mortimer Malham stomped in, his trusty assistant Paul McDonaghue hot on his heels. With a growl, the portly pig pulled his chair back, inspected the top of his desk and slammed his left fist on the overly used, but perfectly polished surface.  
McDonaghue, used to the mayor's outbursts, didn't even flinch as he closed the door behind them.  
"Now what on earth is going on here? I leave the city for one single night at the Duckburg Opera, and when I come back, every single criminal in a five mile radius has decided to leave his stain on my town!"  
Shuffling over to stand next to his employer, McDonaghue replied,  
"Well sir, I must admit, I was also a little bit taken aback by the sudden happenings, but I am certain, the police will be able to handle it."  
Malham gave the grey-moustached dog a half-lidded glare.  
"Paul. I was held up three times on the way here. And I only live two blocks down the street."  
McDonaghue winced in sympathy, as he shifted the sheets in his hands nervously.  
Sitting down and folding his hands neatly before him, the mayor queried,  
"Now, if you would be kind enough to enlighten me as to why St. Canard is being swarmed with delinquents, I would be ever so grateful."  
Clearing his throat, McDonaghue hid behind his files and mumbled,  
"Well, yes, sir, you see, it has to do with Darkwing Duck's retirement -or resignation, depending on how you look at it."  
The mayor snorted.  
"Oh, well, yes, I should have figured it had something to do with -what?" Malham shot up from his chair.  
"Are you trying to tell me, that because that overdressed, pompous, big-mouthed would-be superhero quitted, the city goes down the drain?"  
His assistant squirmed, looking around for the remote control and, finding it, turned on the TV-set facing the mayor's desk.  
"Actually, it's on every news channel", he stated.

Gulping nervously, Roger Lockjaw glanced over his shoulder.  
"Are you sure, this place is safe?" he rasped, trembling slightly. Kurt, his cameraman, shrugged nonchalantly.  
"We'll find out soon enough. Ready? You're on in three, two, one..!"  
Plastering on his broadest -and fakest- smile, Lockjaw cheered into the lens,  
"Good morning, St. Canard! And what an incredibly e-err- unusual morning it is! Police reports have been coming in all night from all over town, as the criminals of St. Canard decided to start a city-wide raid after the suspiciously timed 'retirement'", he indicated quotation marks,  
"of that caped blunderer Darkworm Duck. Despite the somewhat -outrageous situations some of you folks might find themselves in, rest assured that St. Canard's finest are on the job and will have the situation under control in no time soon. Even as I speak, the harbour district has been seized by federal forces, and..and, yes, hang on a second, please!"  
The reporter fumbled with his earpiece, listening intently, then exclaimed,  
"Ladies and gentlemen, dear viewers, as the police just reported, the Swany Heights, the oil deposit as well as the entire south-western area of St. Canard are back under legal control! Just as I predicted", a conceited smile was flashed direction the camera,  
"St. Canard is quite capable of handling these miscreants without the help of its so-called hero. It's safe to assume that within the next forty-eight hours, everything will be back to normal and Dortwing Duck merely a regrettable footnote in the history of our fair St. Canard.  
For CNDC, I'm Roger Lockjaw."  
"And that's a wrap", stated Kurt, as he calmly turned off the camera and rolled up the cable. Lockjaw was basically aglow with glee.  
"See? I told you, coming here was a great idea! While the competition this busy trying to sift through the mass of incoming distress calls and viewers' reactions, we chose a nice, safe and quiet part of St. Canard to let people know that this whole riot is just a storm in a water glass. Now, let's see if we can make it back to the studio in time for the morning news!"  
Screwing the lid on the lens, the cameraman muttered,  
"Depends on how fast you can hail a cab." Mud-brown, droopy eyes locked in on the tall newsman.  
"They stole our van."

Reginald Bushroot used to be a scientist.  
A mild-mannered, kind, socially aware, timid, somewhat insecure, soft-hearted, caring and shy, yet scaringly brilliant biologist.  
It was that precise kindness and altruism which led to his current state.  
After conducting a self-experiment in order to alter his genetic structure and thus being able to retrieve all essential nutrition out of water with the help of photosynthesis, Reginald Bushroot found himself stuck on the genetic ladder some ways between plant and duck.  
Half a lifetime of dedication and devotion, countless published and acclaimed papers, five doctor's titles, three professorships, even a potential Nobel prize nomination..all had been lost within a few hours of his life.  
Now he oriented his time being towards helping and communicating with his botanical brethren; mostly committing petty crimes in order to sustain his eccentric lifestyle -if one would want to call it that.  
Holed up inside the greenhouse just outside the university's campus, Bushroot spent most of his days and nights experimenting, potting plants, growing saplings and creating new, astonishing hybrids with uncanny success.  
Only every once in a blue moon, however, Reginald's loneliness would get the better of him, and then he would conjure up a plan to create his perfect mate from a plant. So far, he had been somewhat successful, though the results had been rather appalling, if not to say terrifying. 1)

Now he watched the news anchorage with growing interest.  
While he had noticed that some punks had vainly tried to take over respectively bring down the greenhouse(a few rampaging pine trees, several snake-like coiling vines and a flock of poison ivy shrubs had taken care of the attackers), he had not known about the connection between these incidents and Darkwing's departure.  
Learning that his friend-foe had seemingly discarded his crime-fighting career left the mutated duck with a strange feeling in his gut.  
And a couple of very interesting ideas.

"Yeah, well tell him if he wants his money, to stop breaking my windows every morning! It's not as if I had glass stocks!"  
Slamming the door shut behind him, Megavolt clomped up the stairs of the lighthouse he inhabited, newspaper under his arm.  
"Paper boys", he growled, as he made his way towards the kitchenette, unrolling the crisp sheets,  
"You'd think that after three years of delivery they would manage to hit the doormat for a change instead of the bay window."  
Still bristling with anger, the rat set his eyes on the front page -and beamed.  
"O-ho! Ohohohoho, boy! Now that's what I call news worth tipping!"  
He thought about it a moment, then shook his head.  
"Nah, I'll just subtract it from the repairs."

Stomping through the hanger in the tower overlooking Audubon Bay, Gosalyn made her way to where her father and Launchpad were kneeling over some blueprints. Every step saw her anger grow, and when she reached Drake's side, she threw the newspaper on the floor next to him.  
"I hope you're proud of yourself! Just because you and your stupid ego couldn't take a blow, St. Canard is about to go to pieces."  
Drake regarded her a second, then waved the matter off good-naturedly.  
"Nonsense, dear, the police and army have everything under control. See, here; it says that the cops are even moving into mob area and taking over gradually. Trust me, in a couple of days, everything will be back to normal. Now, where were we", he muttered, returning his attention back to the plans.  
Launchpad, armed with ruler, compass and pencil, made the needed corrections according to Drake's calculations. Giving his best friend a side-long glance, he stated,  
"Huh, well, Gosalyn might have a point there, DW. Last I heard, half the harbour district went up in flames. A- and the oil deposit is still something akin to a demilitarised zone."  
Absent-mindedly, the former vigilante nodded.  
"Precisely why we're making this improvements. With the Thunderquack and Ratcatcher enhanced, it will be simple to foil F.O.W.L.'s scurvy schemes. Hand me that wrench please, dear."  
Harrumphing, the duckling did as told, still scowling.  
"Well, it's nice to see that you have not totally given up on crime-fighting. Buu~uut...how is stopping F.O.W.L. going to help St. Canard from being run over completely by criminals?" she yelled.  
Shaking his head and massaging his right ear in order to get the ringing out of it, Drake replied,  
"Once the marauding masses of mislead miscreants realize that I'm still alive and kicking and fighting the likes of Steelbeak and Ammonia Pine, they'll scurry back to their hiding holes on the double. That way I can keep the criminal activity somewhat under control while accomplishing S.H.U.S.H. missions. See? It all works out."  
He smiled reassuringly.  
"Besides, it's not as if Negaduck would pop up out of nowhere, now would he?"

"I can't believe this guy! All these years I tried fighting and killing him, and just because some two-bit, godforsaken flab jab comes along and crinkles his style, the dimwit calls it quits."  
Fuming, Negaduck sat in his secret hideout, glaring a the news report. Mulling things over, he grumbled,  
"It's just not like him. It's too smooth and convenient, and-and- wait a minute! What if he -Ohohoo! Ohohohoho, now that's a good one!  
He's laying low to lure out the amateurs! Of course! Once the police have taken care of all the little fish, there'll only be the major players left. With that much loot being divided only by a handful of criminals -namely me and my band of bumbling buffoons- chances are much higher, that we will show our faces."  
Flinty eyes narrowed into dark slits.  
"So, Darkwing waits to flush us out so he can wipe us all up in one fell swoop. I must give him credit; I never had thought he was that cunning. But two can play this game."  
A smirk, so Stygian and sinister it made the darkness between the stars pale in comparison, crossed his features.  
"Actually, I can make this work out for me just right."

_DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW DWDWDW_

Dundundundun...sorry, couldn't resist bringing Negaduck back. As much as I admire Taurus Bulba's intellect, his sophisticated and precise scheming and executions, Negsy is still my favourite DW villain. And no, this has nothing to do with his raspy voice or the fact that he's Darkwing's alter ego or...ok, it's all that. But I also like his temper, backstabbing tendencies and overall evilness.  
Basically, he's what would happen if Darkwing traded his ego and sense of justice for greed and hatred.

1) refers to episodes #57' _Slime ok, you're ok'_, #05 _'Night of the living spuds'_ and #03 '_Beauty and the Beet_'

Next up: S.H.U.S.H., St. Canardians and the return of some dear old friends. Stay tuned!

_P.S: Behold, one and all! Gasp in annoyance at the masterpiece of a true formatting genius! (ref. to DW # 36 'Dry Hard')_


	4. Chapter 4

Aaand, we're back online -literally.

First of all, let me give a great big thank you to all my trusty readers and reviewers. It's always nice to know that people still enjoy my writing.

Still working on the outlining, but we're slowly getting somewhere. Enter stage left: S.H.U.S.H., along with a few other patrons. And no, I haven't forgotten about Liquidator; but he just didn't fit into any of the previous chapters. Don't worry, though; our favourite liquefied canine will be showing up soon enough.

I do hope the formatting doesn't go belly-up in this chapter; due to its length it would be rather confusing if it did. Again, I apologize if J. Gander Hooter sounds a little OC; I had great difficulties regarding his characteristic speech patterns. As for Grizzlykoff...we'll see about him.

~ stands for past happenings

Disclaimer: Darkwing Duck and all related characters belong to Disney. This is done for pure entertainment and without no profit what so ever.

Warnings: PG-13, though I'm not aware of any grave violence or swear words.

_DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW DWDWDW_

Zenith

lV

J. Gander Hooter had seen many things in his life, both as field agent and director of S.H.U.S.H.  
He knew talent when he saw it.  
And dedication, loyalty, tenaciousness and an extremely versatile mindset when it stood before him in the shape of one Darkwing Duck.  
All the more it saddened him, that the vigilante would throw in the towel because of something so..so..insignificant as a reporter's comment.  
But perhaps it was just one of his many plans to lull criminals into a false sense of security?  
The elder owl fervently hoped that that was the case.  
Having seen the broadcast, it was obvious to anyone with halfway decent eyesight and a minimum of common sense that it had been entirely Lockjaw's fault, Megavolt had managed to escape.  
Still, most viewers didn't use common sense when watching news, and rather took for granted what the media fed them.  
J. Gander reconsidered it a bout of good fortune that Darkwing had not given up his position as freelance agent, but actually even pushed the issue of taking on extra missions.  
Adjusting his spectacles, he regarded the caped crime-fighter before him sternly.  
"Well, Darkwing, I must admit, your...resignation as hero of St. Canard has come as a great surprise to both me and Chief Agent Grizzlykoff. Still, we're thrilled that you decided to remain true to SH.U.S.H. "  
Puffing his chest, Darkwing nodded in silent agreement, even as J. Gander continued,  
"Yet, I am afraid that we can not pay you more than we already do due to the fact that you are a merely a freelancing operative."1)  
Darkwing, still nodding, conceded,  
"Of course, after all -WHAT?" Grizzlykoff gloated,  
"Hah!"  
Clearing his throat, the director drew the others' attention back on himself.  
"However, we are ready to pay you extra bonuses depending on the importance and hazardousness of the mission."  
Darkwing shot the "HAH!" back at Grizzlykoff with a vengeance.  
Scowling, Director Hooter admonished,  
"Gentlemen, please. Now, Darkwing, I have an assignment for you. I first wanted to charge Chief Agent Grizzlykoff with it, but seeing as you have the capacity, I'm trusting you with this operation. This way Agent Grizzlykoff can focus intently on training the new cadets."  
Ignoring the bulky bear's smug grin, Darkwing snatched the file J. Gander handed him, scanned the lines-  
"_Bodyguard_? You're hiring me to babysit a p_rofessor_?"  
J. Gander shook his head.  
"No just any professor, Darkwing. Dr. Geoffrey Quackenheimer was the late Professor Waddlemeyer's best friend and assistant. For over two decades they worked side by side."  
Darkwing perked up at that.  
"Waddlemeyer? _The_ Professor Waddlemeyer, who built the ramrod?" 2)  
The S.H.U.S.H. Director nodded.  
"One and the same. Since the Waddlemeyer ramrod was destroyed due to an -unfortunate incident," at that Darkwing gulped and fingered the collar of his sweater nervously, 3)  
"chances are slim to none that F.O.W.L. or anybody else will be able to rebuild it -especially seeing as how Dr. Quackenheimer destroyed all relevant files. Yet, we're not willing to risk any fiend gaining hands on him. Seeing as how he used to be Waddlemeyer's closest confidant, there is a great probability that they could use his knowledge to create a similar device. So we decided to move him to one of our safe houses. And that's where you come in."  
Again, Darkwing puffed up.  
"Yep, yep, yep, trust me on bringing your precious doctor safe and sound to his new habitat. With me to guard him, no evildoer what-so-ever will dare lay one fing-"  
"Oh no, no, no, no," J. Gander put him off with a wave of his hand,  
"I will be personally overseeing Dr. Quackenheimer's relocation. You, however, are in charge of orchestrating the decoy's transfer."  
Darkwing blinked, then his jaw fell even as Grizzlykoff erupted into guffaws.  
"What? Decoy? Me?" sputtered the vigilante.  
"Bu-but what about importance and hazard and-and-and -boom! and getting dangerous, and-" The director cut him short.  
"No need for worries, Darkwing. We intentionally leaked the rumour of the professor's transition. You will surely have both hands full keeping the decoy alive."  
Opening and closing his beak soundlessly, the masked mallard finally managed,  
"Yes, but- what about you and Dr. Quackenheimer?"  
A warm smile creased the aged owl's features.  
"Oh, don't you worry about us, Darkwing," he laughed quietly, as he reached into a drawer of his desk and came up with a fisher's hat adorned with various fish hooks and spoon-baits,  
"me and the professor will merely be two old men gone fishing."

* * *

The sun shone down from a sky so blue it almost seemed like something out of a holiday advertisement.

An old duck with grey curls, navy blue cardigan and fitting handbag cautiously made her way towards her favourite bakery. Mere feet away from the entrance she was stopped by a nervously grinning Roger Lockjaw and cameraman. 4)  
"Pardon me, good citizen of St. Canard, I'm Roger Lockjaw from CNDC, St. Canard's number one news broadcasting station, here to ask you a few questions about the current situation. Now that the police have re-established a fair amount of piece in our beloved city, aren't you glad that you can walk about the park without being harassed by that thuh-rrible nuisance named Dartwing Duck?"  
The old duck merely glared at Lockjaw's exaggerated smile.  
"A walk, huh? Have you been to the park lately, sonny-boy? It's a jungle out there."  
She thrust her thumb direction the city park, where trees dwarfed the high rises; vines hanging from branches sturdy enough to balance convertibles -say what?  
Both Lockjaw and Kurt gaped at the scenery splayed before them:  
large canopies of moss and mistletoes, interlaced with orchids and common ivy dangled from the green giants. The formerly well-trimmed grass was an ocean of emerald haulms freckled with a myriad of wild flowers of all varieties and colours. In the centre of the garden, rising from the grove as Venus rose from the sea, stood a single purple poppy anemone, shadowing everything in a sixty feet radius. 5)

Watching the two men stare in baffled silence, the little old lady cawed,  
"Oh, he was a nuisance for sure. Kept running over my foot whenever he was out catching crooks. But at least I could go feed the birds in the park without having to worry about being eaten by some critter or another. Now, out of my way," she swung her handbag and hit Lockjaw over the head with it,  
"there's an order of cinnamon rolls with my name on it."  
Rubbing his aching head, the news anchor asked,  
"Why are we doing this again?" Kurt coughed nervously.  
"Because the boss insisted?" Lockjaw winced as he recalled the morning's events.  
"Oh, yeah, I remember..."

~Six point four feet, two-hundred-thirty-eight pounds and one mean temper, Dorian Day ruled CNDC with an iron fist.  
Currently, the chief editor watched the squirming Roger Lockjaw huddled before his desk. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his massive desk and rumbled,  
"Roger, Roger, Roger. Do you have any idea how much you disappoint me?"  
Gulping, the reporter squeaked,  
"Disappoint? You? Why, I'd never-"  
"You see, when you first came in here with that report about Darkwing Duck leaving, I thought 'Hey! What a story!' When the troops came marching in to establish peace and order, I knew we had the coverage of the _year_. And then you went and bumbled it. Do you know how you bumbled it, Lockjaw?"  
Trembling at the switch from first to last name base, the paparazzo nodded,  
"I do -not?"  
"Because you interviewed everyone except for the viewers! You questioned every pampered snob on the Swany Heights, all the military personnel you stumbled across and even harassed both the mayor and Police Chief, but not once did you stop to ask the common people about their opinion of the situation at hand!" roared Day.  
Clinging to the carpet save the editor's roar threatened to blow him away, Lockjaw felt his hair blanch to the very roots.  
A benevolent smile, so insincere it made Lockjaw sick to the stomach, was thrown his way when his boss ground out,  
"Now, you're going to go out there and ask every kid, mother and granny you might come across how they feel about the situation in general and Darkwing's departure in particular. And Lockjaw?", the addressed one's eyes went wide as saucers,  
"Don't disappoint me. Again."  
Stuttering, babbling, tripping over his own feet and tossing out a hundred reassurances and apologies a minute, Lockjaw evacuated the office post haste.  
Day drove a brawny hand over his face.~

* * *

Head buried under the Thunderquack's hood, Launchpad heard the characteristic thud, as the Ratcatcher landed safely on its designated spot.  
Wiping his greasy hands with an old cloth he rose and, walking over to the bike, asked,  
"Hey, DW, how did it go on the mi-YIKES!"  
Doing a double-take, he watched a severely singed, bruised and scorched Darkwing trudge past him, growling,  
"Don't. Ask."  
"Uhm, ok, I won't. Still, I'm wondering..." Darkwing, changing into a spare costume behind his screen, bit,  
"About what? Whether or not Santa's elves get paid overtime for working on Christmas?" Launchpad frowned at this.  
"Eh, yeah, well that too. But that's not it." Sweater half ways pulled over his head, Darkwing threw a worried glance at his sidekick.  
Fiddling with the rug in his hands, Launchpad stuttered nervously,  
"I-it's just -well- I mean..that is..uhm, well, y' know-"  
"Launchpad, spit out already!" screamed the vigilante.  
"Well, Iknowyoutookquiteabrusin'withwhatthatotherreporter saidbutdon'tyathinkyou'reovereactingabitbyjustaban d- oningthecity?" sputtered the cowed pilot. Darkwing stared at him for five seconds flat, then screeched in offence,  
"Of course I'm not abandoning St. Canard! What do you take me for? The police can handle the usual criminals, and if the Fearsome Five should show their faces, I'll just call in the Justice Ducks."

* * *

Neptunia crossed her arms before her chest.  
"Newsflash, dimwit. We're outnumbered five to four. Without you, we're one duck short of a team."  
Darkwing tsked and cooed,  
"Not likely. You see, I have already taken care of that. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you: the newest member of the Justice Ducks!"  
Out of the shadows came a small figure sporting a triangle-shaped hat, short bow and cape.  
Quiverwing Quack walked up to the group, a look of fierce determination on her face.  
Morgana stared in disbelief.  
"Her?" Immediately, her incredulity changed into anger. Glaring at her boyfriend, she snarled,  
"You're sending a _child_ to do your work?!"  
Darkwing backed away, hands waving appeasing.  
"Not a kid, but a heroine-in training. Despite her young age, she meets all the required qualifications for a good cadet. Besides, instead of having one single one, she'll have five tutors."  
The others blinked in confusion.  
"What other tutors?" asked Gizmoduck puzzled. Darkwing beamed.  
"Why, you, of course. Naturally, I'll be teaching her the basics, such as deducting skills, investigation techniques and Quack Fu. You however, will be teaching her on the run, while in action. With your individual skills and talents, she will adapt such a vast array of crime fighting skills, she will become the best crime-fighter ever!" Polishing and inspecting his fingernails, he added more quietly,  
"Next to me, that is."  
"I will not have any part in this!" declared an enraged Morgana Macawber.

Everybody stared at her in bafflement. Darkwing's jaw hung somewhere between the suspension cables and the basement of Audubon Bridge, and Gosalyn's- pardon, Quiverwing's- eyes were twice the size of coconut burgers.  
"But-but- honey-wumpus, don't you think it's a great idea? She already has some experience, and she has followed and watched me for ages. Besides, it's not as if I talked her into it; she basically insisted on joining-" Morgana whirled around.  
"Now listen here and listen closely, Darkwing Duck! I will not allow you to endanger a young girl, never mind how brave or talented she is, with your crime-fighting schemes just because your ego took a bruising. And if you insist on this-this -_macabre_ posse of yours, you can consider our relationship cancelled! I will not be acquainted with a hero who puts his charge in danger in order to nurse if wounded pride!"

All were quiet; shocked into silence by the mage's heated words. The livid sorceress made her way towards the exit, ready to leave-  
Darkwing stood before her in so fast a movement, it even took Gizmoduck by surprise.  
Gazing at her with a sombre expression, Darkwing pleaded,  
"Morgana, please, don't -don't leave. Not like this. Please. I understand that you're upset, and I can't blame you for wanting to leave me, but..Morgana, please, I'm asking -begging you..We need you. The Justice Ducks need you. _I_ need you. And so does St. Canard."  
He took a deep breath, before he mumbled,  
"I -can't stop you from leaving me. I have no right to do so. But -but for the sake of the people, the city..Don't walk out on St. Canard, Morgana. Please."  
The mage prepared for a sharp reply...then gazed at him, as if seeing him for the very first time.  
And then, suddenly, as if a veil had been lifted, she saw it, saw the real Darkwing Duck.  
She could see all the hits, bruises, blows, discredits and insults he had taken, the pain and sacrifices he had suffered, the traces of self-neglect and scars of loneliness; she could almost count the stitches beneath his plumage and beyond that, past the superficial marks and faults, underneath it all, revealed, his sincerity, honesty and unwavering, profound devotion to all people and his loved ones in particular.  
And Morgana knew why she had fallen for him in the first place the very moment they met.  
In that one single unguarded moment, when his emotions(and hormones) had ensnared his thinking and left him fully open and vulnerable, she had glimpsed his soul and found the missing part of herself.

Lowering her eyes, she weighed the options for a moment, then rose her head and nodded, once.  
"Fine. For the sake of St. Canard, I will stay."  
Everybody present broke into cheers, even as Darkwing took his beloved one's hands into his own and hushed,  
"Thank you, Morgana. For everything."  
She winked, as she cooed,  
"Hey, I can't let St. Canard fall to pieces, right? After all, I have merely just begun to establish my gourmet franchise, and I do need a decent operation base."  
Darkwing's response was crushed by his bafflement, even as the enchanting sorceress breezed past him and addressed the others,  
"Well then, Justice Ducks, time to get to work! Stegmutt, you will meet me here every morning eight o' clock sharp. Let's see what we can do about that...simple mind of yours. Gizmoduck, since you're the one with the most field experience, you will be patrolling the city and help wherever there's help needed. The police might have things under control for the moment, but there's no telling when any of the Fearsome Five might show up again. Quiverwing, as your mentor already announced, he'll be in charge of your training. Speaking of which.."  
Launchpad watched the happenings, then, bending over to his best friend, whispered,  
"Sheesh, talk about a take-charge kinda girl. Do you think it's wise to make Morgana leader of the Justice Duck, DW?"  
"Please, LP;" rasped the vigilante in return, "we're talking about a witch who can turn you into a snail in two shakes of her pinky. Literally. Do you really want to go up against that?" Launchpad scratched his head in discomfort.  
"Point taken."  
"Now, Neptunia," Morgana turned to the fish-almost-turned-girl,  
"you do have a very tight schedule, seeing as how you are responsible of the ocean and its inhabitants. Being a businesswoman myself, I understand that your time is rather limited. Still, I would be more than happy if you could be our stand-by duck -err, fish. Is there a way we can reach you in case of emergency?"  
Neptunia considered this a moment, then nodded.  
"Sure thing, lass; I'll fix you up a second horn in a jiffy. But only call when you're really beached and carped, ya hear me?" Morgana smiled reassuringly.  
"Of course dear. It would never cross my mind to place a distress signal unless things were really truly dare." Neptunia snorted.  
"Well, it's nice to see that at least some land-dwellers have common sense. I'll send ya the horn by seagull. Later, folks."  
With that, she jumped out the next window to plunge into the waters below. Resurfacing, she waved good-bye to the others, then made her way towards the ocean.  
Launchpad, removing his headgear and wiping some sweat off his brow, declared,  
"Now that's one cold-blooded fish-err-girl-err, I mean, well, y' know..."  
Gizmoduck, who had watched the whole happenings in silence, worried his chin, then asked,  
"There's just one thing that bothers me. Who ever went and made you boss, lady?" he pointed at Morgana.  
Who turned and, letting some harmless, but impressive sparks erupt from her fingertips, purred in a low voice,  
"Why? Are you questioning my decisions, Gizzzmoduck?"  
Hastily shaking his head, Duckburg's hero acquiesced,  
"No, of course not, you're the boss, sure enough!" Morgana gave a smile, just a hair wider than a razor's blade.  
"Good. Now I would say we all get some rest, then meet back here at sundown to plan our further steps. Until then, take care of yourselves."  
Turning, she sauntered towards the spin chairs, Launchpad and Quiverwing in tow. Glancing back, she queried,  
"Are you coming, Darkwing?"  
"Of course, darling", tweeted the masked mallard and added quietly over his shoulder,  
"Besides, who would argue with someone who has such leadership skills?"

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*****grin *I could just picture DW giving the audience that last line before leaving the screen. So, the Justice Ducks are back in business with Morgana as leader. I first wanted Gizmoduck to call the shots, but then found Morgana to be both more intimidating and cunning.  
And just because she was quiet throughout this chapter doesn't mean that Quiverwing will be anywhere as silent for the remainder of the story. I merely decided that her vocal chords could use some rest.

1) It's established that S.H.U.S.H. pays for DW's entire equipment. Actually, it's shown in episodes _#6 Apes of Wrath_, _#14 Trading Faces_, _#82 Star-crossed Circuits_, _#84 The Frequency Fiends  
_Hey, somebody has to shell out the bucks for a decent health plan! And secret governmental institutions do have quite the budget.

2, 3) Uhm, episodes #1 and #2, anyone?

4) The little old lady from Quackadena...I just had to include her. She's the stereotypical ungrateful, ignorant, wary St. Canardian who always accidentally gets pestered by DW one way or another.

5) I wanted it to be purple as reference to Bushroot. The thought of a bigger-than-life jungle in the centre of a metropolis makes me smile.

So far, so well. Hope you liked this and will be back whenever I update. Next up: the return of one- of two- ehh, a couple of DW's greatest enemies. And perhaps some other surprises, too. Toodle-pip!

_P.S: Anyone ever tell ya what a lousy formatter you are, dude? (ref. to DW # 68 'Negaduck')_


End file.
